


I don't care if you don't care.

by d0gs



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Friends to Lovers, Knifeplay, M/M, Pre-Canon, canon typical violence - mentioned, horror movies, mild bloodplay, murder - mentioned, some kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27216430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gs/pseuds/d0gs
Summary: Father Death the name emblazoned on the five and dime store costume's packaging states, but that's too formal for Billy's liking.They’re just Death.The two of them shadows in the night, the Woodsboro killer/s who are leaving a reign of terror in their wake.
Relationships: Billy Loomis/Sidney Prescott (mentioned), Billy Loomis/Stu Macher, Stu Macher/Casey Becker (mentioned), Stu Macher/Tatum Riley (mentioned)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	I don't care if you don't care.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badritual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badritual/gifts).



> I have been wanting to write something about this pairing for a while as Scream is tied as my all time favorite movie, and I'm a huge horror movie lover myself, so I was really happy to see this pairing on your prompt list! 
> 
> As per your preferences (which I'm with you on!), I wrote this without the inclusion of Roman Bridger being the mastermind, sticking to the original movie canon instead of s3, where it's stated they came up with the plot themselves. 
> 
> Something that always strikes me in the movie - is how little Billy interacts with anyone other than Stu, unless forced. I also always thought Stu never seemed like a fall guy Roman described him as, but like Billy's equal in the movie and so I really wanted to convey that here! 
> 
> Title is from the song by[ Dillon Dixon ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jeh08CEqtCw) that plays at the end of the Scream credits and has some lyrics that I think really fit this pairing well re: how they don't really seem to have interest in anyone/thing except each other and their murder plot!
> 
> Happy Halloween and I hope you enjoy reading this! 🧡

October 1994

It's at one of Stu's pre-Halloween parties that things between them officially start to change.

Stu’s been throwing these since they were twelve years old. Every October nineteenth, in honor of Michael Myers' birthday, he has a get together; a precursor to the one he throws every Halloween in the mansion of a house Mr and Mrs.Macher own but hardly ever inhabit.

This year is no different from the rest. They eat pizza, watch horror movies and drink the beers Steve Orth and Tyler Williams always manage to score for Stu's shindigs, thanks to Steve's older brother being the kind of guy who finds the idea of his fifteen year old brother getting tanked hilarious, and the fact that Tyler's old man isn't the type who keeps track of how many beers he has in the permanently stocked fridge.

It's Wednesday, a school night, and by ten thirty there are only five of them left. Stu and Billy; neither of whom have to worry about parents being concerned about them. Tyler, whose father is by now passed out on his seventh beer of the evening. Steve, whose parents let him do whatever he wants because he's their golden child, and of course, Randy who’s always one of the last to leave any party and who has parents that think the foundation of good parenting is trust. 

Billy wishes Tyler, Steve and Randy would fuck off so he and Stu can be alone to shit talk them and watch horror movies all night. As if on cue, Stu looks at him from across the room where he’s sitting in his dad’s favourite armchair, long legs dangling over the sides and rolls his eyes dramatically in response to Randy and Steve yelling at the TV screen as the driller killer chases the two doomed teenagers. The smallest of smiles forms itself on Billy’s lips as they make eye contact, then like some blushing virgin in those teen rom-coms Sid is so crazy about, he looks away.

He hopes the others didn’t notice – they’re too busy ogling the other soon to be victims, but he still feels paranoid. He can’t let anyone else suspect what he’s been thinking about, pretty much ever since he started dating Sid in the summer.

Stu.

He didn’t realize his feelings for the other boy had changed until he actually got a girlfriend, which is highly ironic, but not something Billy finds at all amusing.  
Sidney Prescott is, objectively, a gorgeous girl. With her long dark hair and soulful brown eyes, Billy knows that most guys his age would love to be with her. Hell, Randy never shuts up about how amazing she is and makes no secret of the fact that he resents Billy for dating her when he’s firmly in Sidney’s friends only camp. 

He and Sid haven’t done any under the clothes stuff yet, but their make-out sessions have been pretty hot and heavy from the start; which is why Billy didn’t get why he felt absolutely nothing at first.  
The fact that her mother was fucking his father and the reason his mother walked out of his life one Monday morning in late August was the problem, he initially told himself; believed it too. How could he bond with Sid when she was just a reminder of her mother? Still, gorgeous or not, after a couple of weeks together, during one date when they were watching a movie she’d picked, and she was talking about the summer job she was thinking of applying for, it hit him that the real trouble was he was bored with her. 

They just aren’t compatible he'd decided, as he sat with her in the Prescott’s front room, watching The Breakfast Club, wanting to tear his skin off. He felt like he was having an out of body experience; watching himself from behind a wall of glass. It happened every single time they were together. He was just performing, playing a part. Billy would say what she wanted to hear, act how he knew she wanted him to, the way he did around everyone else. 

Except Stu.

They’d always had a connection and it had gotten stronger as they’d grown older. They just got each other; had the same sense of humour, could sit in silence for hours but it wouldn’t feel awkward, could have a conversation with eye contact, both knew what it was like to have to deal with shit alone. With Stu, Billy felt something he’d never felt around others. 

He felt like himself. Like he didn’t have to pretend to be who he felt he should be. 

Safe.

And he was pretty sure that was how you were supposed to feel about the person you were dating. It was all he could think about as he sat with his arm around Sid, pretending to care about Molly Ringwald’s plight.How wrong it felt sitting there with his girlfriend when they had the house to themselves for a couple of hours, and he just wished he was watching this shitty movie with Stu instead. Stu would make it bearable, fun even. 

“They’re never gonna talk to each other after the detention is over, who the fuck are they tryin’ to kid?” he’d scoff.  
Billy just didn’t find Sidney that interesting. 

In truth he didn’t find anyone that interesting.

Except Stu.

Stu with his biting humor and the way he’s a lot smarter than most people realize because they‘re too dumb to look past the goofing off. Stu, who had come to get Billy as soon as he called him on the afternoon he got back from school and found his mom had gone and left no forwarding address. Stu, who he could just kick back and be with.  
Stu who has a darker side of his own that Billy’s only seen when they've been together alone, watching horror movies and trash talking everyone else. A side that compliments Billy's own, a side that he wants to explore more, just as he longs to explore his own darkness. 

It’s not like he’s gay. There aren’t any other guys he’s into. But, he doesn't think he's straight either. Straight guys like Randy don’t suddenly start thinking about making out with their best friend when they’re with girls. He doesn’t care about it, he realizes now as the driller killer dispatches another girl, leaving the final one all alone. It wouldn’t matter to him if Stu were a girl or a guy. 

Fuck, he doesn’t need to be thinking about this right now. 

True, he’s pretty sure Stu is into girls _and_ guys from comments he’s made over the years, but that doesn’t guarantee anything. Plus, it’s not like they could even actively be a thing if Stu was into him. Not with Stu’s Catholic, conservative parents and living in this small middle of fucking nowhere town. He feels another flash of anger and resentment at everyone in his life.

Everyone except Stu.

The movie credits rolling jolt him out of his own thoughts and he lights a cigarette, asking the others if they want one. Steve, ever the health conscious athlete, turns him down. Randy turns him down on principle, because he’s never liked Billy since Sid started dating him. Tyler and Stu both light up, all of them but Billy still talking about the movie. He’s seen it before with Stu, the past summer when they stayed up all night watching a ton of movies and Billy crashed at the Machers’ more often than not to avoid going back home to listen to fights with Hank Loomis calling his wife paranoid and her alternating between sobbing and raging. 

“That was awesome!” Tyler enthuses, pouring the last drop of beer from his can out onto his tongue. 

“The killer was a riot,” Steve eyes the cigarettes enviously, regretting his own commitment to his athletic lifestyle.

“He was hot!” Tyler exhales, seemingly unbothered, by the fact that he has just announced he’s into girls and guys, he continues; “I’d do it with them all at once man!”

 _That_ gets Billy’s attention. 

He wonders if Tyler even knows that he just came out to four people. He did ask Billy how to spell orange in class two weeks ago and he thought Santa Claus was real until they were thirteen years old, so Billy’s not sure. He says nothing as Randy and Steve rib Tyler about it asking him why the hell he’d want to suck the driller killer’s dick when there are tits right there.

“Why not have both man?” is the only answer Tyler gives, with a laugh and shrug.

For a minute it seems like no one has an answer to that, until Stu says loud and clear; “I’d do him too. C’mon he’s hot!” he laughs and leans over to give Tyler a high five. 

“What about you guys?” Tyler directs the question at Billy, Randy and Steve.

Billy is about to ask what he means until Randy cuts in.

“What? Would we do it with the driller killer?”

“Yeah, or with another guy, you know? Ever think any guys are hot?”

So Tyler knows what he’s doing after all. Billy feels a stab of envy at how easy it apparently is for him to talk about this.

“Not really,” Steve’s tone is thoughtful, before he adds, “I mean unless someone like James Dean counts.”

“James Dean? Seriously? My mom still has a crush on him!”.

Tyler snorts at Randy’s quip. “That’s a burn man!” he exclaims, nudging Steve who shoves him and tells them to shut up and that James Dean was hot.

“Alright! Now for the real question,” Tyler is obviously on his way to being loaded. “If you had to make out with someone in this room, who’d you pick?”

“That’s real easy – none of you!” Randy throws a handful of popcorn at Tyler.

“Dillhole!” Tyler’s still laughing as he throws his empty beer can at Randy catching him on the ear.

“Ouch! Jesus! Watch it!”

“If I had to pick one of you, I’d pick you, Steve,” Tyler answers his own question. “I’ve seen you in the showers, buns of steel!”

Steve just laughs and punches his best friend lightly on the arm. “Back at ya man, if I had to do it with one of you, I guess it would be you.”

“This is all very touching but how about –“

“I’d make out with Billy,” Stu replies in a calm clear voice.

“There’s a big surprise,” Randy eyerolls, shovelling more popcorn into his mouth.

Billy's throat suddenly feels dry, and he has no idea what to do or say, so again, he says nothing.

Tyler makes a leering noise and asks why.

“Look at him, he’s hot!” Stu says in response to Tyler, but continues to hold eye contact with Billy. “He’s got nice lips.”

Billy's unsure whether Stu is serious, or if this is just one of his gags.

Well,there's one way to find out, he supposes.

“I’d make out with you, Stu,” Billy states, before the still whooping Tyler has a chance to turn the question on him. “I’ve always had a thing for blue eyes,” he adds, still holding eye contact and flashing a wicked smirk.

Stu’s own smile has faded now, Billy notices. He’s trying to gauge whether or not this is a joke too.

Randy of course, interrupts the moment by saying loudly; “You like blue eyes so much how come you’re dating Sid?”

Stu groans as Billy gives Randy a full body eyeroll and ignores the question.

“When are you gonna give that shit up man?” Stu asks him, “or are you just pissed that none of us want to make out with you?”

“Yeah, I’m about to die of a broken heart,” Randy deadpans, “like I’d kiss any of you assholes!”

Tyler lugs one of Mrs.Macher’s pristine pink sofa pillows at Randy’s head. 

“He shoots! He scores!” he jumps to his feet, hollering.

Randy lugs the pillow back and misses.

“I hate to break this party up, but I gotta get going,” Steve gets to his feet, swaying slightly on them as he does so. “I still got homework – and practice in the morning,” he nudges Tyler at the mention of practice.

Stu walks the three of them to the door, leaving Billy to stare at the static on the TV screen, the video player long since stalled once the credits finished rolling. He can hear them saying their goodbyes and wishes for the umpteenth time that they’d fuck off. He wants, no _needs_ , to be alone with Stu to do what he’s about to.

A few minutes later Stu joins him, flopping down at his side on the sofa, then turns to face Billy.

“You wanna watch another movie? It’s still pretty early, we could order another pizza if you’re still hungry. I kinda am...”

Billy is aware that Stu is trying to fill the silence because of the exchange that just took place. He’s feeling awkward, Billy can tell, thinks that it was all a joke.

“Yeah, sure. You wanna watch Hellraiser?” 

Stu grins. “Always, man!” he bounces over to the TV, and replaces Slumber Party Massacre II with Hellraiser; one of their mutual favorites.

“So, you wanna order more pizza?” Stu asks once he’s re-joined Billy on the sofa.

“Stu?”

“Yeah?” Stu’s gaze is fixed on the TV screen and that makes it easier, Billy thinks. If he were staring right at him, this would be even more difficult.

“What you said before –“

“- Shit! Forget it, pretend it was a joke like the other guys did!” Stu interrupts, aiming his gaze directly on Billy.

“Huh?”

“You’re freaked out and -”

Stu doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence, as Billy lunges forward, silencing him in the best way he can think of; by planting his lips on his friend’s.

For a brief second Stu stiffens, then he simply melts right into Billy’s touch. His lips part allowing Billy access, and then they’re kissing in earnest, exploring each others’ mouths with an intensity Billy has only ever seen on-screen. 

It hits Billy instantly, how different this is than kissing Sid. How he's never felt what he knows he's supposed to, the way he is now. It’s never been this urgent or visceral with her, never felt this seamless; as though they fit together perfectly – and fuck, now he’s thinking about how well He and Stu would fit together in other positions and can feel himself getting hard.  
He’s never felt like he’ll die if the kissing stops, as if he’s on fire from the inside out, when he’s making out with Sid. This is something else. This is what a kiss should feel like, he tells himself as he draws Stu’s bottom lip between his teeth and bites down, hard enough to draw blood. Stu doesn’t protest, only moans softly as Billy’s tongue laves at the blood collecting there, then stains Stu’s own lips with it in another kiss.

Eventually they break apart out of necessity, both of them flushed, panting, lips swollen and bloodstained, pupils blown. Billy’s flannel shirt is in a discarded heap on the floor, their hair a mess.

“Fuck,” Billy exhales, grins at him, the blood on his lips contrasting with the white of teeth. “I guess you were serious about wanting to make out with me, huh?”

“I guess you were too,” Stu’s usual mischievous smile slowly forms as he takes a shaky breath.

A lot of unanswered questions are hovering in the air between them. Things they should really discuss, but all Billy wants to do is kiss Stu again and forget about everything else. About school and his asshole father who doesn’t even seem concerned that they still haven’t heard a thing from his mom. About his mom, and the fact that she’s still not come back and obviously isn’t going to. Or tell him where she is apparently. If she’s even still alive... About all the anger he’s been feeling for so long it feels like he’s going to just burst one day, like some sort of dam. 

And about Sidney, who he can’t even remember why he started dating in the first place, other than it seemed like a good idea at the time. Though maybe it was fate or kismet or whatever word his mom would have used, seeing as how it was when he was over at Sid’s in September that he overheard Maureen Prescott on the phone with his dad and it hit him right there that this was “that tramp” his mom had been referring to during that last fight with his dad. Sid’s mom was the one his dad had been fucking. He hadn’t even been choosy enough to do it with someone he’d need to make an effort with, Billy thought bitterly as he heard Maureen laugh while planning to sneak out to meet Hank that night. 

He doesn’t want to think about anything else right now. 

“You wanna do it again?” he asks Stu, and Stu, always a fast learner, just pulls Billy closer by the fabric of his shirt and presses their lips together.

Billy hears himself moan and feels Stu smile into the kiss, pleased with himself for being able to draw a noise like that out of Billy as he lies back on the sofa, pulling Billy down with him, movie forgotten.

The next morning they're late for school, thanks to another make-out session that ended only because of their necessity to draw oxygen. Randy shakes his head, calls them lightweights when they show up feigning hangovers. They say nothing, just meet each other’s eye behind his back and smile.

_____________________________________________________________

Stu’s Halloween party is the point where everything is set in motion; the point of no return.

As usual a lot of kids show up; Stu’s a fun guy, his parents are never home, and there’s always beer. Tatum arrives with Randy in tow; she’s dressed as a zombie cheerleader, Randy is a zombie too – a Romero zombie, Stephen from Dawn of the Dead as he is quick to inform everyone – and Sid’s come as a classic witch. Stu greets them by jumping out from behind the kitchen door and waving the knife around before dissolving into laughter at Randy’s ear piercing scream.

“Man, you screamed like a little girl!” he’s practically wheezing as he pulls off the Michael Myers mask.

“Yeah, ha-ha very funny,” Randy elbows him in the ribs causing Stu to wince in pain.

Billy takes a sip of his beer to suppress the small smile he feels, knowing exactly what’s causing Stu to grimace. The imprint of Billy’s mouth left there only earlier that afternoon. 

He tries to keep his thoughts fixed on that. On Stu. On what they have planned for tonight after everyone fucks off and leaves. God knows he needs to block out what he heard at Sid’s house right before they left. Maureen Prescott talking to his father on her cellular phone again, laughing as they made plans to meet later that night. It took every bit of self control Billy possesses to not confront her then; to not barge into the den, snatch the phone from her hand and yell at his father that he was a pathetic excuse of a husband, father and man. He can’t remember ever feeling this mad in his entire fucking life. 

He’s mad at all of them, not just at Maureen. He’s mad at his dad for being selfish and shitty, at his mom for disappearing and not even bothering to call and see how he’s doing once in all the time she’s been gone. And of course he’s mad at Maureen Prescott; who apparently didn’t have enough dick in her life with her husband, Cotton Weary and Fred, the school janitor. Maybe even principal Himbry if some of the rumors Billy has heard have any truth in them.  
The thing is though, mad as he is at his parents, there’s still love there; for both of them. That’s just the way it is with parents, he thinks. They can hurt you, piss you off, ruin your life and you still love them because they’re your folks. Whereas Maureen is different, she means nothing to him and so all he feels when he thinks of her is a vast, bottomless rage. 

It’s there in the Machers’ kitchen as he watches the others joke around and Stu hit on Tatum just as he’d advised that the thought enters Billy’s mind and he makes the decision.

He’s going to fucking kill Maureen Prescott.

His eyes travel back to Stu; to his hands wrapped around the handle of his mother’s best carving knife, and he finds himself reluctant to look away as another thought enters his head as swiftly as the one before it.

What if he could convince Stu to kill her with him? It could be like creating their own horror movie, he muses.

Just the other day when they were watching Friday the 13th, Stu had said in a voice that sounded far too much like he was trying too hard to be casual, that he’s always loved first person POVs in 80s horror movies, because it makes him feel like he’s the one doing the stabbing.

He doubts he would have to work very hard to convince him.

And that angle could work. Tell Stu he wants to kill someone, live out their very own horror movie, one where they end up the sole survivors, even though they’re the slashers. They start with Maureen Prescott, 'cause the first ones to bite it in slashers are always the ones screwing around and that's pretty much all Sid's mom does other than day drink - they lie low for a while and then knock off a few more leading up to the anniversary just like Mrs.Voorhees. How often do slashers – not the supernatural ones – get away with it? Billy can’t think of a slasher he’s seen where there are not one but two final guys or girls who also end up being the killer then go on to live their lives together in a twist ending. It’s the kind of movie he’d love to see, and he guesses, it’s exactly the kind that Stu would too. 

Once the skeleton of the plan has formed in his mind, he feels like a light bulb has gone off in front of him. He doesn’t know how it took him this long to think of it. He’s not worried about Stu. Even if he says no – which Billy somehow just knows he won’t – he also knows he wouldn’t snitch on him. Not Stu. 

Somehow Billy manages to make it through the rest of the party. Acts the dutiful boyfriend to Sid, while trying to work out how her death could fit into the final act of the horror movie narrative he’s creating. Pretends he’s happy for Stu when Sid tells him Stu asked Tatum out and she said yes, when all the time he’s pissed at the mere idea of Tatum touching Stu, even though it was his idea for Stu to date her.

When Stu announced he was pretty sure Casey was gonna break up with him a few days earlier, Billy had panicked. As long as they both had girlfriends no one was gonna suspect that they were fooling around with each other, two all American guys like them. What do you know; being with Sid finally had a purpose. But if Stu didn’t have a girlfriend, all it would take would be a few comments from someone like Randy to really fire up the rumor mill. That couldn’t happen.

“You need to ask Tatum Riley out, Stu,” Billy had announced mid make-out session on the sitting room floor.

“Huh?” Stu sounded dazed as he looked.

“Tatum Riley. Sid’s best friend. She’s into you, she told Sid it sucks you’re dating Casey ‘cause she thinks you’re cute and we could double date.”

“But why –“

“- Because if Casey breaks up with you for Steve – which by the way dick move on his part if what you think he did is true – it’s only a matter of time before people start talking about us.”

“You’re paranoid man,” Stu was more interested in getting Billy’s shirt off.

Billy swatted him away. “Look, this is serious. Your old man practically worships Reagan. We wouldn’t be able to see each other anymore. And knowing him, he’d haul your ass off to one of those conversion camps...”

“You really think?” Stu looked shaken at the mention of conversion camps.

“You DON’T? Have you not heard him agreeing with that televangelist guy?”

Stu looked down at the floor saying nothing. Billy could tell he was, for once, upset.

“Hey,” he continued, tone softer, hand on Stu’s arm. “Ask Tatum out, okay? That way we can see each other even when we’re on dates. Plus, if you ask her before Casey officially breaks up with you, you can tell her and Tatum that you dumped Casey for her. Huh?” he gave the other boy a nudge.

Stu looked up at him, trademark smile in place, though his eyes were a little misty at the thought of his father’s ire over his sexuality, “Okay man, I’ll ask her out at my party. I mean she’s hot too, so that’s a bonus!”

Billy glared.

Stu laughed before leaning in. “Not as hot as you, don’t worry,” he dragged his knuckles slowly down the one side of Billy’s neck, pulling the opposite side collar of his shirt aside to expose the sickly looking yellow bruise on Billy’s collarbone. Stu pressed his fingers down, combining the pleasure and the pain, and Billy moaned, still unable to understand just how Stu could draw noises like this from him so easily.

“Stu?”

“Yeah?” the taller boy asked in a teasing tone. , 

“Get this fuckin’ shirt off of me.”

_____________________________________________________________

It’s after midnight when the house is finally empty and Stu closes the door behind Randy, Sid and Tatum.

He’s wearing the Michael Myers mask again when he joins Billy in his bedroom. It’s the mask and the fact that he’s watching Halloween, that give Billy the idea for a costume. They could do what Michael does, get a costume that you can buy from any store in the state. The beauty of anonymity.

“What’s up man?” Stu pulls the mask off, tosses it onto his desk.

“Just thinking,” Billy sips his beer.

“About what?” Stu plays along.

Slowly, Billy places his beer can down on the bedside table, then begins to pull off his Jason costume, throwing the shirts to the floor, before he stands up, and walks over to where Stu stands at the foot of the bed. Stu's eyes are fixated on Billy’s bare chest that’s a map of bites and bruises Stu’s put there. Marking what’s his. Not Sid’s; never hers.

Billy reaches into the boiler suit pocket and takes out the carving knife that Stu has had a riot carrying around with him all evening. He slowly runs it up the front of Stu’s costume, brings it to his mouth, presses it flat against his lips, the leans forward and licks it. Stu follows his lead and their tongues meet against the steel blade. Billy thinks he might come in his jeans.

They stop when they taste blood and Billy flings the knife to the pillows on Stu’s bed, before grabbing Stu by the suit's collar and dragging the taller boy down with him as he lets himself fall back onto the mattress. 

It’s as Stu is kissing down the column of his throat and dipping lower, down to his chest, smearing blood across Billy’s skin, that Billy asks; “You ever wanted to kill someone? Ever think about doing it?”

Stu stops what he’s doing, stiffens, then looks up at Billy with a new expression on his face. One Billy has never seen before but instantly recognizes; wariness. Whether it’s because he’s worried he’s been found out, or because he’s creeped out at the possibility of this being serious, Billy isn’t sure. He thinks he knows the answer though. Hopes he’s right.

“Well, have you?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I... why are ya askin’ me, man?”

“’Cause I wanna know, dipshit.”

“I mean, who hasn’t, right?” Stu deliberately averts Billy’s gaze.

“I have. Do. Every fuckin’ day,” is Billy’s even reply.

Stu’s head shoots back up, relief written all over his face. Billy finds himself growing harder in the knowledge that this is something Stu has thought about too.

He winds his legs around Stu’s waist, pushes up so their dicks are pressed against each other through their clothes. Stu lets out a breathy moan Billy wishes he could taste.

“Who would you kill?” he’s still holding the lapels of that boiler suit Stu borrowed from his college age brother’s closet for this costume, and uses his hold on them to yank Stu back up so their faces are inches apart.

“Maybe principal Himbry,” Stu laughs softly, somewhat forced, and then continues, “Steve ‘cause even though I would have broken up with Casey anyway, I still think it was shitty of him to do that. Might as well get Casey too if I’m doing Steve, two for one,” he laughs again and Billy _knows_ , can tell, that Stu’s given that one some serious thought, just like he has with Maureen Prescott.

Loosening his hold on the lapels, his fingers move to the zipper and slowly pull. Stu shrugs his top half out of it once the zipper is down half way and presses his body against Billy’s, skin against skin, delights in how Billy’s back arches at the contact.

“Stu?” Billy asks, tone innocent as he plants his bloody lips against the pulse point in his friend’s neck.

A full body shudder is Stu’s first response before he can manage a weak, “Yeah?” 

“Let’s do it. Let’s kill them. Steve and Casey. Himbry, Tatum, Randy, Sid. Let’s act out our own horror movie," he pauses to place a kiss against Stu's thundering pulse. "Kill with me, Stu,” Billy’s voice is low, barely audible and it kind of reminds Stu of Freddy Krueger telling Jesse Walsh to kill for him in A Nightmare on Elm St.2, which Stu always thought was hot if he’s being completely honest.

He can hardly believe Billy’s saying this; voicing something Stu has been daydreaming about since they started watching horror movies in middle school. Watching with Billy in their bedrooms, getting turned on by the blood and the thought of them both being the killer, dispatching people together. It’s been getting him off for years.

Without answering, he reaches up, grabs the knife from where it lies on his pillow and places the tip of the blade against the bruise on Billy’s collarbone.

Billy makes a keening sound in the back of his throat and pushes up again, wanting friction. Stu pushes down as Billy’s hips spring back up to meet him, and soon enough they’re grinding against one another.

“Say it again,” Stu breathes, wanting more than anything to hear those words from Billy’s lips another time.

Billy’s hand closes around Stu’s on the hilt of the knife and he opens his eyes, meeting the blue ones as they move in tandem.

Billy thrusts up with extra force, delighting in the strangled whine that draws from Stu, then speaks; “Stu,” another thrust. “Kill with me.”

“Fuck,” Stu gasps as the familiar feeling builds at the base of his spine. “Yeah, yeah, I will. Let’s kill together.”

Those words and a few more hard thrusts are all it takes to make them come together, eye contact unbroken, hands around around each others', still on the knife, both of them feeling like they just had something akin to a religious experience.

_____________________________________________________________

September 1996

Stu's waiting for Billy in the car; eyes closed, his arm hanging out of the open window, holding a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke curling up into the night while the radio plays softly.  
The picture of contentment; almost post-coital bliss. He's always so relaxed after a kill, Billy muses, sliding into the driver’s seat beside him. Almost, as if though that frantic energy that radiates from him constantly is only truly sated by taking a life.

Billy, on the other hand, just feels more wired than he does normally.

Before they killed Maureen Prescott, almost a year ago now - time flies when you’re having fun after all - he figured it would be the same for him. That once he’d watched the life drain from her eyes he would finally feel some sort of relief and satisfaction.

He was wrong.

He felt satisfaction during the kill itself, but once that was over, the feelings he’d long suppressed only began to grow stronger; immediately, like vines taking root inside of him. Rage was constantly simmering beneath the surface with Billy, had been for a long time, but after experiencing the frenzied thrill of unleashing it without restriction, all he wanted was to chase that feeling again.

And again.

He remembers reading something Ted Bundy said about how with every kill you believe you’ll be fulfilled, but you're not, so you think that will happen next time, then the next time after that.

It's like an itch he can't properly scratch, a thirst he is unable to quench, and it's only growing stronger.

Whenever he’s around his old man, who he can barely even stand to look at any more, or that fucker Randy who never shuts up spewing trivia in some pathetic attempt to impress Sid, or someone just really pisses him off for whatever reason, he can physically feel the wrath he holds inside thrumming through his veins, rattling his bones; the creature that dwells inside him scratching at his insides, clawing, howling to be let out.

He’s thought about it countless times, on the nights when sleep evades him and instead he lies awake, a horror videotape playing at low volume on the small TV in his room, while the house that stopped being a home when his mother walked out, lies dormant and dark around him. He's thought about how the anger he felt at Maureen Prescott didn’t die with her, and why that is.

 _“Because you’re still just as mad at your folks as you are at her, at everything”_ the treacherous internal voice whispers often during those nights as images of Freddy, Jason, Micheal and Pinhead laying siege to countless victims and corn syrup flying flood his grainy TV screen. 

Sighing, he leans forward and pulls a cigarette from the discarded carton on the dash. His eyes flit first to the digital clock that reads 22.50PM, then to Stu, who is still in the same position, bringing the cigarette to his lips every so often for a lazy drag, eyes still closed.

As if on cue - sometimes Billy swears the guy can read his mind - Stu opens one eye and speaks.

“So I'm guessing Sid is still a virgin?” he sounds mildly amused as ever, tossing the cigarette butt out into the bushes that surround them.

Billy rolls his eyes, lights the cigarette, exhales.

"She was never gonna say yes. I'm starting to think she won't even when it's time."

"What if she doesn't, man? What happens then, once we've already carved up Tatum, Randy and all the others?"

There's a hint of something different in Stu's voice now. Not fear, not exactly but close. He's worried, Billy can tell. Worried they won't actually get to kill Sid. It’s the unspoken question hangs in the air between them.

Billy leans forward, to turn the key in the ignition.

"Then I guess deviation from the established script will be fine. It’s time someone re-invented the genre anyway," he shoots the other boy a smile as the car comes to life.

On a cool night in late September like tonight, the roads are deserted in this part of their small town, the drive back to Stu's house from Sid's is fifteen minutes at most. They're driving in silence; save for the Metallica song still playing at a lower volume than metal should be played at, in Billy's opinion, when they hear the sound.

Sirens. Red and blue screams echoing out into the blackness of the night, announcing the deaths of Casey Becker and Steven Orth to the world in a mournful wail. Billy's eyes travel from the road ahead of him to the person beside him. Their eyes meet and they grin at each other, all sharp teeth and sly smiles. _"We did that"_ is the silent thought neither of them need to state aloud.

That feeling never gets old. 

It's just one more thing no one else will ever know, another secret. Like the candy boxes holding human hearts in My Bloody Valentine; going unnoticed until the fateful moment someone noticed the blood seeping out or lifted one of the lids. Or how the still baby faced Reagan McNeil told the party guest he was gonna die, then pissed on the carpet, before anyone found out what exactly was hiding deep down inside her, beneath that child’s exterior, and the monster was unleashed.

_____________________________________________________________

It's almost one a.m and they’re in Stu’s room; the only sources of light are the glow of the TV and the red numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table, winking in the darkness. They could be the only two people in Woodsboro, hell, the entire world lying there on Stu’s bed in silence save for the on-screen killer terrorizing sorority members over the phone, and the sounds of their breathing.

Lying there, Billy wishes they were.

Stu's folks are once again out of town on a business trip; the kind that allows them to live the way they do and means Stu practically lives alone now his older brother is gone, off at college; which has its advantages when you're plotting and carrying out murders or want to have sex in any room of the house.  
His own father is likely asleep in front of their downstairs TV; his nightly routine since his wife up and left town and his mistress was found ripped apart. Their girlfriends sound asleep; blissfully unaware of the carnage that unfolded at their hands that night.

Black Christmas is playing, on screen the killer he shares a name with creeps around his hiding place among his soon-to-be victims; all of them oblivious to his presence. The faintest hint of a smile forms at the corners of Billy's mouth; the parallel between that and himself not lost on him.

What he’s done.

What he's going to do.

How he’s hiding in plain sight and none of them know it.

The only exception to the last part is the person lying next to him. The entire thing's been a team effort, and though Billy is the only one of them with a motive even Stu doesn't know he has, it's been the two of them acting as one from the beginning. 

Billy's gaze travels to his best friend who's staring directly ahead, engrossed in the movie they've both seen countless times, waiting in almost palpable anticipation for that first kill.

A rush of affection surges through him and sliding onto his side, he slings a jean clad leg over the other boy's.

Somewhat reluctantly Stu averts his eyes from the screen and meet Billy's. Then their bodies are moving in sync, they're leaning in towards each other, lips meeting in an urgent kiss. He feels Stu's body shift next to him, feels the taller boy toss his free leg over his own, locking them in a tangle of limbs.

It's a fitting analogy.

The two of them as one.

That's how it's always been with them.

That's how it still is, now more than ever.

The two of them as one; a single entity.

Billy knows he’s kind of sick, has for a while, pretty much since the first time he watched Hellraiser and was so turned on he ended up jerking off so hard he almost passed out. So, it turns out, is Stu. Was it catching, he wonders as he lies there in the dark. Had they passed it along sitting side by side in class or sleeping over at each other’s houses? Had one of them breathed it into the other at some point over the years? Had it been transmitted when they’d smoked stolen cigarettes, both inhaling each other’s air, lips taking turns at the shared butt; an indirect kiss. 

Billy doesn’t know and he doesn’t care either. As far as he's concerned, sick is just a bullshit word society likes to use for people who are really free; something they know they're not. 

They'll never be free like him and Stu.

Father Death the name emblazoned on the five and dime store costume's packaging states, but that's too formal for Billy's liking. 

They’re just Death.

The two of them shadows in the night, the Woodsboro killer/s who are leaving a reign of terror in their wake.

The thought gets him harder and he shifts again, thrusting against Stu's leg, swallowing the low moan that elicits from his friend before taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down until he can taste blood.

Then, he’s pulling away slightly; not without a whine of protestation from Stu that dies in his throat as soon as Billy runs his tongue across his bleeding lip, and leans in again for a kiss more urgent than the first.  
It’s a kiss that’s flavoured with the beer they drank in the privacy of the Machers’ otherwise empty home, and the unmistakable metallic taste of blood; a thirst they’re never able to quench.

Another fitting analogy.

Withdrawing his leg from in between Stu’s, Billy clutches the neckline of his sweater, using it as leverage to shift himself into his desired position; straddling the other boy.

Instantly Stu’s hands are pulling at Billy’s shirt, like he’s running on automatic; fingers trailing under fabric that smells of the blue dollar store detergent used in the Loomis household since it dwindled from three people to two.  
He’s tracing feather light circles up and down Billy’s spine, grinning into the kiss as feels his friend's body react just the way he knew it would.

Another nip at Stu's still bleeding lip and Billy's pulling away again, and sitting up, his mouth firmly out of reach. Stu's about to protest until the reason for it registers in his lust addled brain and he quickly closes his mouth, watching as Billy pulls off his shirt with the same fevered urgency that burns in his kisses.

Against the bluish hue of the TV - that first kill Stu was so eager to for as his backdrop - Billy looks kind of like an angel, he muses idly, staring up at him. The gaze he's met with tells him Billy is anything but.

His eyes are roving; moving from that stare Billy's giving him, eyes almost black with lust, to those lips coated with his own blood, that neck, those arms, chest, stomach and still lower, to all the marks in varying shades of purple that Stu's left scattered across Billy's body.

They are marks he wears too; a matching set. Marks mapped out by each others' fingers and mouths, the imprints of their incisors and canines etched onto each other's skin. Marks made by the knife they've long since found other uses for. Marks no one else knows are there - just one more secret only they're in on. One more hushed whisper only they can hear.

It's fall; clothes can hide everything with almost conspiratorial expertise. It's not as if Sid's gonna let Billy close enough for her to notice the constant bruise he wears at the base of his throat, blossoming across his collarbone. And Tatum... the only place they've never even done it, but the only place they've done over the clothes stuff in is her VW Bug with just the bulb above the rear view mirror for light. As far as she knows that claim on his collarbone is hers.

Stu pushes himself onto his elbows, moving forward, still bleeding mouth finding one of the many bruises he never allows to heal; a murky reddish purple impression of his mouth above Billy's ribs - the quickest way to a man's heart is through is his ribcage - where the skin is so sensitive he thinks it must be hardwired to their dicks. Judging by the way Billy's back bends, arching him into it, the way his heavy-lidded eyes fall shut and the half growling sound he makes deep in his throat, as Stu bites down then sucks all the blood to the surface yet again, he’s convinced that assumption is correct.

Stu swallows, mouth dry, not breaking contact with the dark eyes that are boring into his own. He thinks about making some wisecrack - some pun about a little death - but can’t seem to find the ability to say anything.

Not when Billy's staring at him that way. Not when he can feel Billy 's hardness against his own, and all he can focus on is how good that feels. Not while Billy's left hand is pushing the fabric of Stu's sweater all the way up and his right hand is reaching for the knife.

Stu swallows again, harder this time, and before he can even so much as think anything else, Billy's leaning forward and his tongue is on Stu's throat, circling playfully, until... a loud moan is ripped from Stu's throat when he feels Billy bite down in the same spot - his turn to bring the blood to the surface - and the cold sensation of the blade being pressed against his abdomen.

Any semblance of clear thought flies out the window, his nerves ignite, spine melts like wax, and pushing his hips upwards is all Stu can manage to do as Billy pulls off and gives the claim he's made on his skin another long lick.

"Fuck," he gasps a few seconds later, long and drawn out, breathing uneven and every bit of energy he possesses forced into that one syllable.

Billy smirks a little more, eyes softer with something Stu only ever sees there when Billy's gaze is directed at him. It makes his heart swell and his jeans feel too tight.

Still looking at Stu that way, Billy licks his lips and begins trailing the knife slowly; painfully slowly, further upwards, towards his rib cage, bringing the point of the blade to rest in the exact same spot where Stu bit him moments before.

Of course Stu wears a furious looking bite to match Billy's on the paper thin skin above his ribs, and that's exactly where Billy presses down, biting his own bottom lip, relishing the taste of Stu’s blood still staining his lips as he looks down to see the thin red line bloom. A rush of heat at the sight of it - at the sight of the effect that, and he himself are having on Stu – courses through him; his own blood feels like liquid fire running through his veins.

He thinks how this will be the last night they have together for the next two days. Maybe even ever, if somehow their plan gets messed up. He's convinced Stu and himself that it won't, but deep down, in the logical part of his brain he knows he has to consider the possibility that there will be no survivors in the Woodsboro Massacre, not even them. Or that there will be, but it won't be them. 

"After tonight, it's just you and me," he whispers. 

It's something they've talked about a lot; how everyone else will be gone, and it will just be the two of them - even though that's how it's always been, really - what they're gonna do with the rest of their lives once everyone else is dead.

Stu looks up at him, as though Billy had put the sun in the sky, and smiles. "Just you and me, baby," he grins, and pulls Billy towards him.

 _Alive or dead,"_ Billy mentally states, doesn't voice. Either way, he thinks to himself as he pulls Stu's sweater over his head and dives to kiss him again, at least if they die, they die together.


End file.
